


Absence Makes the Heart Grow Something

by saltedpin



Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedpin/pseuds/saltedpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garland comes to the realisation that an endless cycle of battle does nothing at all for his love life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absence Makes the Heart Grow Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poisonstrawberries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonstrawberries/gifts).



> I actually wrote this about a year ago after asking Poisonstrawberries for a prompt to entertain myself on a long train trip. She got back to me with 'WoL. Gabranth. Adultery.' Hence this.
> 
> WARNING: Contains comedy suggestions of incest, though it's not consummated. Also it's kind of mean to Gabranth, who I actually adore. I'm sorry, Gabby.

Garland had realised some time ago that, with a near two-foot height difference even when the Warrior of Light was _in_ his armour, the laws of proportion meant that he was just going to have to put up with a certain amount of whining.  
  
Despite that, and despite the fact that he really had heard it over and over again from a fairly large array of people, this was beginning to wear very, very thin.  
  
Barely holding back an exasperated sigh, he asked, "Must we do this every time? You know how much of it there is and your squirming isn't going to make it any easier, so you may as well just lie there so I can get this over with."  
  
In response, the Warrior of Light only seemed to start going even slower. "Just a moment, please."  
  
Releasing the sigh he'd been holding in, Garland stared fixedly over the Warrior's shoulder, trying to imagine himself as some kind of inert mass, because it was really the only way he could see himself maintaining his sanity, stuck not quite halfway between heaven and purgatory, while the Warrior of Light made whatever adjustments he felt had to be made.  
  
Lying there, Garland began to wonder how things had come to this – what of the time he'd put the Warrior through a wall before following him dick-first through the newly-created hole? Or when Garland had jerked him off whilst holding his head over a lava pit? Whither the time he'd still managed to fuck the Warrior of Light into unconsciousness with the man's silly toy sword stuck in his thigh?  
  
Thinking back, he didn't believe he ever could have imagined being so bored. He stared down at the Warrior, wondering if it would be worth his while to simply snap his neck right then and there so the cycle would hurry up and end, and he could go back to having the kind of sex that didn't make him want to cut his own dick off so he could be somewhere else, doing something productive.  
  
Unfortunately, the thought of violence brought on some renewed activities downstairs, and he found himself looking down at the Warrior's annoyed wince.  
  
"I said _wait_ , Garland."  
  
Garland sighed again. "Yes, dear."  
  
He wondered what Exdeath was doing right now and if he'd like a drink later.  
  
***  
  
Hours later, Garland limped back into the Land of Discord.  
  
He wasn't limping back hours later because he'd actually had any fun, but rather because the second the Warrior of Light had finished in whatever it was he had apparently set out to accomplish, he had wrapped himself up in Garland's cape and gone to sleep, the entirety of his weight seeming to rest squarely on Garland's thigh. Usually Garland prided himself on having a warrior's mastery over his own body, but not even _his_ extremities could deal with two and half hours of numbingly restricted blood flow.  
  
He hadn't even gotten any damned sleep: he had always found it impossible to sleep lying flat on his back, but every time he'd tried to move, the Warrior had clamped onto him like a limpet, and Garland was forced to abandon the attempt.  
  
All in all, it had not been an especially satisfying evening.  
  
Garland supposed it was inevitable – if living in an endless series of cycles had taught him anything, it was that things tended to get very old very quickly. Even randomly appearing to Cosmos warriors and saying cryptic things about the nature of cycles and battle had begun to seem strangely boring.  
  
Garland stared morosely out over the bubbling lava pits. That he, of all beings, should be reduced to this! There was no spice any more – the last time the Warrior of Light had tried to fall asleep on him, Garland had threatened to tie him to a rock until _he_ got tired of it. Now, he realised, he just couldn't be bothered with such things any more.  
  
Drumming his fingers against his helm, Garland brooded. Perhaps it was time to accept that the magic was gone. He supposed there were only so many times he could bend the Warrior of Light into pornographic origami shapes before it all started to seem a bit samey.  
  
***  
  
"Have at thee, foul agent of Chaos!"  
  
Garland parried the blow from the paladin's silly wand… stick… thing, hurling the man backwards against the wall. This was more like it! Blood pumped in his veins as he watched Cecil, clearly dazed from the blow, struggle to get up. The paladin had the same defiant air of rectitude, the same strangely righteous glow, the same white hair – if he squinted, Garland could almost convince himself he was looking at the Warrior of Light. Shaking his head, he quickly dismissed the thought – those days were over, and it was time to move on.  
  
"Do you give up, warrior of Cosmos?" he growled, watching Cecil's eyes widening with fear as he reached forward, wrapping one giant hand around the man's throat.  
  
"N-never!" he stammered, his hands pulling at Garland's fingers.  
  
Garland had to hold back a groan – ah yes, this was what he remembered! It was so satisfying, after all this time, to finally again feel the twitch of excitement, the old heat coursing through him.  
  
Leaning forward, he pinned Cecil against the wall with his lower half, feeling him writhe against him. He could almost hear the Warrior of Light's familiar voice behind Cecil's breathy pants. "Always the same," he muttered. "Always the same."  
  
"No – stop –" Cecil said, closing his eyes and wriggling. "Brother, don't be angry – oh, no –"  
  
Garland paused. "Pardon?"  
  
"Oh no, you must stop," Cecil panted. "Oh brother, this is terrible – what will I tell Kain – ?"  
  
Inside his helmet, Garland made an expression of complete disbelief.  
  
"Brooooootherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…" Cecil whined, undulating between Garland and the wall. "No – no, don't turn me over –" Garland watched as Cecil cracked one eye open, obviously getting impatient and offering suggestions now. "No, brother! Not… _there_ …"

Garland released the paladin, letting him drop to the floor. "What in the name of –"

"Oh, is this not what we're doing?" Cecil looked up at him, obviously mildly confused. "I thought it would be okay. You know. Seeing as you're obviously pretending I'm the Warrior of Light."

Garland let out a noise of disgust. "I most certainly am not," he said, sweeping his cape up and turning to go. "I am done with that imbecile. And with you."

Just before he stormed from the chamber, Garland heard Cecil calling out, "Tell Golbez I said hello!"

***

"Cease your struggling and die, Warrior!" Garland roared.

Before him, Firion planted his lance in the ground, using it to haul himself to his feet. "I will never give up!" he cried, silver hair rippling in the wind. It was slightly too long, Garland reflected, and the Warrior of Light had certainly never tied it back in such a horrible fashion, but after he had ripped the man's ridiculous bandanna off and torn it into a thousand pieces, he supposed the likeness was passable enough.

"I have dreams!" Firion said, raising his sword. "Dreams of fields full of wild roses!"

"I shall lay waste to your fields of flowers," Garland snarled. Ahh, now he was beginning to enjoy himself – he didn't recall the Warrior ever talking about flowers (he rather doubted that the Warrior of Light knew what a flower _was_ ), but he supposed he could work with what he was given. He took a handful of Firion's cape, hauling him upright. Firion struggled to reach for his… whatever, the man carried so many weapons Garland had to wonder if he was compensating for something. Certainly the Warrior of Light never bothered carrying around such an arsenal. Garland glowered directly into Firion's eyes, tightening his fingers in the material of his cape. Firion swallowed heavily, his cheeks flushing. "But not," Garland said lowly, dangerously, "before I lay waste to your – eugh!"

He released Firion, staggering back as a veritable fountain of blood suddenly erupted from the man's nostrils.

Firion collapsed on the ground in a dead faint, blood pouring from his nose and creating a small pool on the ground around his head. He lay inert. Garland stared in disbelief, wondering what on earth Cosmos was thinking of in selecting such cretins to her army. No wonder she was getting nowhere in the cycles.

Shaking the blood from Firion's nasal explosion from his fingers, Garland stomped off in search of less virginal prey – or at least one that was better able to deal with his double entendres, masterful though they may have been.

***

"Don't even think about it," said Sephiroth when Garland wandered too close to him at dinnertime.

***

"May I remind you that you _are_ technically my father," sneered Kuja.

***

"I most certainly will _not_ wear that wig," said Kain.

***

"Oh, brother, how I have waited for this," breathed Golbez.

***

Garland was fed up. What did a man have to do get laid around here? He swung his huge blade at a rock, destroying it with a single blow. Everyone here was a completely useless moron, or else had displayed more perversity than even Garland was willing to put up with. He still shuddered when he thought of the time, in desperation, he had looked in on Kefka's chambers and seen things he was sure the human mind was not meant to contemplate.

_I may as well give up on the idea of ever having sex again_ , he thought sourly. There was no solution – there was nobody who suited Garland's needs at all. Forlornly, he looked out over the horizon, wondering if he could possibly convince Cid of the Lufaine to make another Warrior of Light, only this time make it so that he didn't get completely boring in bed after six months.

He was ruminating on this with a fair amount of seriousness when he heard it.

"Can you try it one more time?"

Garland turned his head in the direction of the voice. The unmistakeable voice.

An exasperated sigh drifted to Garland's ears.

"Lose all hope, Warrior of Light!"

Garland pursed his lips. The second voice was gravelly, the accent uneven – it could only be Gabranth. _Gabranth and the Warrior of Light?_ Garland wondered. _Doing what?_

Garland crept closer, insofar as a man of his frame could creep anywhere.

"That was better," the Warrior of Light was saying. "But could you try deeper?"

Gabranth sighed again, then shouted, his voice attempting to sink somewhat lower than a tenor, "Lose all hope Warrior of Light. Uh – in this – "

"—in this cycle, as in every cycle," the Warrior of Light encouraged.

"—you belong to _me!_ " Gabranth finished, clearly not into it.

There was a long pause. "Maybe don't worry about that part yet," the Warrior said. "Just tell me when you're in."

"I _am_ in," said Gabranth indignantly.

"…Oh."

Garland felt rage tear its way up his throat, exploding out of his ears. So _this_ was what the whore had been doing this entire time, while Garland wandered the land with no thought but how to replace him! And with _Gabranth!_ Red misted his vision. As if that puny judge could _ever_ take his place – he'd like to see him even _try_ to pin the Warrior to the wall with one hand and tear off his armour with the other! And his swords didn't even have chains in them – they were no good at all as impromptu bondage equipment. And now, if the sounds that were coming from the other side of the rock were anything to go by, he didn't even have the common decency to even _act_ like he was enjoying himself.

Garland fumed, feeling jealousy and fury swirl within him. Nobody didn't enjoy having sex with the Warrior of Light but him! _Nobody!_ His blood pounding wrathfully in his ears, Garland surged around the corner, coming face-to-face with what had to be the most ridiculous tableau he'd ever laid eyes on, namely the Warrior of Light boredly tapping his fingers on the ground and trying not to dislodge the badly-tied chains around his wrists, while Gabranth huffed annoyedly away from behind, obviously hoping to get this over and done with quickly.

Garland would have laughed if he hadn't been so insanely furious. Yanking Gabranth backwards by the scruff of his cape, he threw him fair across the clearing, watching him land with a satisfying thud. Picking up the man's cuirass, he threw it after Gabranth, who ducked as it sailed over his head.

"If you ever come near my property again, consider yourself a dead man," Garland bellowed, waving his sword above his head, a convenient breeze swirling his cape magnificently behind him.

"As if I'd want to," Gabranth shouted, and was answered by Highway Star hurled at his face. He ducked just in time for it to fly over his head and embed itself in the tree behind him.

That taken care of, Garland whirled to face the Warrior of Light, who had propped himself up on his elbows and was staring at him with the kind of expression that Garland had not seen on his face for a very, very long time.

"And as for you," Garland snarled, glowering. He reached down to pull the Warrior up by his hair.

***

Ages later, the Warrior of Light was picking bits of rubble from his forearms and clicking his jaw back into place, and Garland was still trying to regain the feeling in his knees. He honestly could not remember the last time he had felt quite so satiated – he didn't even mind when the Warrior of Light asked him to retrieve his sword from where Garland had embedded it in the cliff face, far out of his reach. He'd have to get a new cape made, he supposed, seeing as this one had several tears in it now, but that was what the Emperor's seemingly endless supply of curtain fabric was for. He'd also have to explain why he'd set out with no less than six potions and come back with none, but it wasn't as if he hadn't used _any_ of them on injuries, so Garland decided it was actually quite a fair use of supplies.

Watching as the Warrior tried very hard to polish out a particularly deep scratch in his cuirass, Garland sat back and sighed. Life was good.

"Same time next week?" he eventually said when the Warrior paused to inspect his armour at arm's length.

"Hmm." A look of deep thought crossed the Warrior's face. "I'm not sure."

Garland almost sputtered in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?" he eventually managed to get out, rage beginning to choke him.

"I think a trial separation might do us some good, don't you?" the Warrior of Light said, studiously not looking in Garland's direction, turning his armour to catch the fading sunlight.

Garland almost bellowed in outrage, before catching the slight twitch on the Warrior's face. He narrowed his eyes. "As if you could stay away," he eventually scoffed. "As if –"

"We shall see," the Warrior said calmly, standing and beginning to buckle his armour on. "Who knows when we'll run into each other again?"

Garland growled. "How unpredictable," he said, watching the Warrior do up his greaves.

"Mmm. Quite." The Warrior placed his only slightly dented helmet back on his head and turned away, leaving Garland without so much as a backward glance.

Once he was sure the Warrior of Light was out of hearing distance, Garland let out a contented sigh.

Maybe next time he'd even let the Warrior fall asleep on his leg again.


End file.
